


Child of Earth, Child of Light

by Mejhiren



Series: Myths of Panem [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Beautiful Underworld, Demeter!Alyssum, Earth!Asa, Extra-Charactericular Smut, F/M, Gentle Hades, Hades and Demeter, Hades!Jack, Jack Everdeen Sings, Mejhiren Headcanon Characters, Mythology - Freeform, This is totally not original fiction, Titaness!Ashpet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mejhiren/pseuds/Mejhiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The dark boy, she learned quickly, loved when she touched the earth. She knew the earth was his father, but when she trailed her fingers through fresh soil, it was the boy whose sigh she heard, as though she ran her fingers through his black hair. She wondered if she would ever have the courage or the opportunity to attempt such in truth.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The boy was persistent but not bold in his desire for her attention, and when he longed for it most, he would come as near the opening of his hiding place as he dared and sing the stone-song to her. The words fell upon her like fragrant petals, albeit in a strange tongue, and she would press her back to a tree and listen as every bird in the vicinity fell silent to hear him too.</i>
</p><p>The love story of Katniss's parents as a gentler retelling of Hades and Persephone, where tenderness and longing take the place of abduction and deceit. (This may ultimately continue on to Peeta and Katniss, as Alyssum is really more like Demeter, putting Katniss in line to be a very interesting Persephone indeed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of the Under-World and its King

It began, simply enough, in a cave, with the coupling of a Titan maid and the earth itself.

The Titaness, Ashpet by name, was a huntress and shape-shifter, and the earth had loved her from the dawn of time, when his father had shaped her, and many other beings, from the earth’s own soil. He savored her footfalls, be they the silent pad of cougar’s paws, the fleet strike of doe’s hooves, or the graceful spring of human feet, skimming over his flesh, day after day, like the sweetest caress. He drank up the water that trailed from her body when she rose from her baths in lakes and streams, and every night she made her bed upon him unawares, and he yearned and ached with longing.

Many of her race had sought to make her their wife, but she only laughed and outran them all and made her home in the woods, hidden among the highest branches and hunting and foraging to fill her table. But one day a fierce rain besieged her nesting place, and she descended from her tree to find a cave to shelter in till the rain might pass. Now, every cave and valley and mountain is made of earth, and when Ashpet entered the hollow her swain welcomed her, as would a lover into his arms, and spoke most tenderly and in earnest of his love for her. She endeavored to laugh this aside, as she had the suits of many warriors and craftsmen, but the earth persisted, bringing forth silver and gold and brightly hued gems to lay at her feet as tokens of his devotion. The proud Titan maid was not to be wooed by rich presents, nor pretty words; indeed, she had made up her mind to brave the rain once more when the earth bespoke a human form, that he might entreat her face-to-face.

The earth made a plain man, as might be imagined: dusky-skinned, with hair and eyes the color of coal, and smaller in stature than the huntress herself. And in this the Titan maid _did_ marvel: that the earth, who possesses every treasure and gem, and to whom borders and nations are foolishness, should manifest himself before the woman he loved in so modest a form. She conceded to talk with him a while, till the rain might pass, but the sky is the earth’s brother, and he knew what had begun in the cave, and did not let the rain abate. As the night trailed on, Ashpet drew near the earth-man for warmth, and soon kisses were exchanged, then tender little touches and gasps and finally groans as their limbs parted and tangled and their bodies meshed upon the floor of the cave.

The earth had never known a lover, no more than the Titan huntress, and he sought to detain her in his arms with kisses and passionate caresses, but she snarled at him like a cougar, impatient with her mate now that their coupling was finished, and sprang from the cave on broad paws.

Now she was not resentful, this Titaness, nor regretful of what had passed between herself and the earth, but _vexed_ , rather, for she had known neither father nor mother nor lover before that night and did not comprehend the deeper feelings that the earth’s words and hands and mouth had roused within her. She fled that place, first as cougar and then as doe, but she had forgotten that every patch of ground is the earth’s own flesh, and she might run a hundred miles only to find him that she had left behind standing before her, his hands outstretched in supplication.

She ran from him for a fortnight, till her feet would no longer carry her away, and then she ran _to_ him, seeking him out in every cave and glen and shadowed place. The earth rose up to meet her and took her in his arms, covering her black hair and fierce mouth and limber form with kisses, and made love to her, again and again, till both were weak with pleasure. After each coupling she left his embrace, though with increasing reluctance, and not to run: merely to stretch her lean limbs aboveground and collect berries and game for her repast, which she ate with her cheek pillowed on her lover’s breast as his dusky hands stroked her hair.

The earth showed her wonders that no Titan had ever seen, much less imagined: the sands of a hundred shores, the soil of a thousand lands, and a rainbow of raw gems to rival any colors seen aboveground. He taught her the songs of the stones and she sang them back to him in a voice as lovely as her countenance, and the earth trembled with love for her.

Many months passed in this fashion, and the weight of Ashpet’s rounding belly soon slowed her steps, till one day it anchored her wholly and she could not move from the earth’s embrace, for their unborn child would no longer be parted from his father. She knew a moment of grief at this, for even in the coldest months a huntress must run and chase and bring down game, but her lover assured her that the winter would pass swiftly in his arms, and at length she took a bear’s form, that she might slumber away a portion of the season and not grow restless. The earth was dormant then as well, and cocooned himself about his mate, warming her body and their child’s within her.

Snow blanketed them both for a soft, silent season, but the earth awoke with the first thawings of spring and eagerly roused his bear-mate from her slumbers with damp, loamy kisses. As Ashpet woke she resumed her human shape, and to her distress, her labor commenced at once, for her babe was anxious to wake as well; to forsake his own warm hollow and come forth to greet his parents. Her body cried out to give birth in an animal’s fashion, but she had conceived in her natural form, and so also must the child be delivered.

The earth braced her with his strength, for her pain, even in bringing forth his child, grieved him beyond measure, and after many whimpers and groans and fistfuls of soil in white-knuckled hands, a dark, tiny babe slipped between Ashpet’s strong thighs, and at last the earth cradled his son.

He was a surpassing beautiful boy in the fine-featured fashion of his mother, though his eyes were as bright as the silver his father had first presented to her as a lover’s token. The Titaness suckled the babe with joy and a fierce mother’s pride, then she made a sling from her garments and bound him snugly to her chest, for her long slumber, followed by his birthing, had left her ravenous, and she meant for the child to accompany her on a hunt.

But no sooner had they reached open ground  than the boy began to scream and cry, for he was half made of earth and could not bear the absence of his father’s broad expanse sheltering him from above – and what was more, his silver eyes could not bear the sun’s light. He wailed against his mother and tiny diamonds fell from his eyes to litter her breast; the priceless tears of the earth’s own child.

The earth tremored at his son’s grief and promptly swallowed them both up, drawing the Titaness and their child deep into his flesh, like rabbits in a burrow, and holding them close. But this Ashpet could not bear, for she was a huntress and required the sun and air and green things to survive, and the total embrace of the earth was a stifling thing, and terrifying to one who must freely draw air to breathe.

And at this the earth himself cried out, for it appeared he could not keep both his mate and his son, and that he would not accept.  With a mighty groan he reshaped himself from within, carving out caverns and towering corridors and countless chambers within his flesh. Here he hollowed a mountain to make a palace, there he rerouted a river to form an underground waterfall, or drained a lake, that it might serve instead as a broad pool below. The walls of this horizons-wide kingdom were seamed with precious metals of all kinds and glittered with gems, and here and there the earth cut portals in his flesh and windowed them with clear quartz and diamond, that there might be small measures of sunlight for Ashpet’s contentment. He left also a hundred passages to the world above, in caves and valleys and secret hollows of rock, that she might ascend to hunt or chase at any time, for the earth knew that his mate was a wild creature and must be free to come and go as she pleased. He erected furnaces of bronze in the darkest places of this kingdom and filled them with burning coals, that neither Ashpet nor their child, whose matter came half from her, should grow cold, and finally he cut two paths to his own heart; a lake of molten gold at his very core, which pulsed like a war drum and blazed hotter than any furnace, that his child and mate might draw near to that most intimate part of him and be warmed by its heat and rich golden light.

The earth called this kingdom of his flesh the Under-world and gave it to his son, to serve as a playground and later, a royal domain. And though one might imagine a kingdom of earth to be a dank, wretched place, full of darkness and creeping things, in truth it was a realm finer and more beautiful than any aboveground king’s, and no less full of pleasures. The earth’s son had a cradle of silver and curtains of gold, spun by his mother’s clever fingers, and he played with gems as a mortal child might play with blocks or sticks. He could call precious metals to him simply by pressing a hand to any surface of his palace, and they would swim through solid rock to reach his fingers, like little gold and silver fish surfacing greedily for bites of bread.

Moreover, this kingdom was a haven for those quiet, gentle creatures who make their homes in dark hollows. The boy’s arms became a burrow for a stream of rabbits and fox kits and badger cubs; indeed, he never slept without half a dozen warm, downy bodies jostling for a place in his cradle, while mice and velvet-furred moles made nests in his black hair. Whiskered owlets liked his neck best and would tuck themselves there even when he toddled about the caves, while bat-pups perched beneath his ears and now and again nipped affectionately at the lobes.

The boy had every luxury and comfort: his mother’s milk and later, the feast of plants and game that she foraged for him from above; animal companions without number, and more treasure than an army of kings might spend in a thousand years – and of course, he was always in the presence of his beloved father. The earth spoke to the boy at all times and taught him the songs of the stones, only to weep rubies when first he heard the child sing in return, for he had a voice so lovely, even in infancy, that it could silence every creature in the Under-world and even still the war-drum of the earth’s molten heart. The earth resumed his man-like form often so he might touch and kiss and hold his son in a human fashion, and many nights passed with the earth-man and Ashpet bedded down in one of the caves where first they had lain together, their limbs entwined and their child nestled between them; now suckling, now cooing, now drowsing amid happy gurgles as his parents caressed his tender skin and pressed kisses to his tiny fingers.

But as the boy learned to walk and speak in his turn, he began to grow lonely, for every child longs for playmates to share its toys and meals and made-up languages. So the earth crafted companions for the boy from the walls of his kingdom: earth-people, slender and soft-spoken, with skin like shadows, and the boy called them Seam-folk, for their bright eyes were hewn from the seams of silver that lined his walls. They played with the earth’s son and tended to his needs, but their service was a joyous thing and the boy embraced them like kin.

Now as the boy grew, he dared to stand beneath the quartz-and-diamond portals through which sun- and moon-light reached his kingdom, beneath which his mother – who wore always a necklace of the diamond tears he had shed when first she tried to take him aboveground – lingered often and drank up with both hunger and relief. His silver eyes could bear that light now in moderation, and so she took him up to a woodland cave, that he might watch as she hunted with arrows of gold and perhaps, in time, hunt alongside her. That day was spring, the very first of it, and the earth’s son beginning his eighth year, and he glimpsed from the mouth of his shelter a wonder he had never seen before, much less imagined.

It was a girl, no more than two years of age, with hair like a seam of pure gold and skin as pale and luminous as moonstone. As she toddled about the woods, she bent to sweep her little white hands over the barren forest floor, and everywhere she touched, grasses and ferns and bright tiny violets sprang up. The earth shivered with delight at this, and his son did as well, for he was half made of earth and could feel the girl’s touch like a caress upon his own skin. He wanted to go out to her, to touch the curling hair that caught the light and hold his dusky hand alongside her white one, but then his mother returned with a fine stag slung across her shoulders and they withdrew to their palace below.

The girl, she told him, was an aboveground child, born to a Titaness like herself, and as powerful as he in her own ways. “The mortals name you gods,” she explained, “the children of Titans, equipped with powers and functions in the natural world. Your realm is your father himself, and your powers are an extension of his own. That girl’s powers lie in making things grow, in sowing the woods and fields and bringing forth flowers and fruits in their time. Another leads the harvest; a boy about her age, though their powers are entwined, near inextricable.”

The boy asked his father about the girl in turn and learned that, though barely more than an infant, she was much beloved of the earth already. “Her hands are gentle,” the earth said, “as the brush of that owlet’s feathers against your neck, and her steps as soft and nimble as a rabbit’s. I will give her whatever she asks, and more besides.”

The boy smiled at these words, for he liked the pale girl very much, above any of his Seam-folk companions. In truth, he loved her already, and in quite a different fashion from his father, though he knew it not. “May I play with her?” he asked. “May I join her in the woods, or bring her here to see my home?”

The earth gave a sad sigh at this. “Those aboveground think themselves of a higher order than us,” he told his son, “with their white skin and golden hair, though their kin were shaped from my flesh, just as your own mother was. They will mislike and may even fear you, though you mean them no harm. Better that you stay where you are king and adored,” he said, “and venture above only with your mother.”

The boy conceded, for he loved both of his parents and had no thought to question their judgment, but he could not forget the pretty little girl from the woods and quickly put his clever mind to finding ways of communicating with her.


	2. Two Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for Janek/Alys (young Mr. Mellark/Mrs. Everdeen) smut, in case that bothers anyone.

She had always known of the dark boy; the shadow-boy who watched her from caverns and rock-hollows with mice in his hair and owlets on his shoulder. Indeed, her earliest memory was a glimpse of him at the mouth of a cave, peering out at her, his silver eyes glinting in the darkness. He perplexed her and made her boundlessly happy all at once.

Her mother warned her away from him in no uncertain terms. _Under-folk,_ she called the boy and those like him, who remained always beneath the ground. _Their skin is like coal and their teeth fanged like a serpent’s. He’ll lure you to him with those silver eyes – or worse yet, that stone-song he always sings, that silences the birds like the stare of a snake – and drag you to his dark den below, to feast on your pretty flesh._

A dire warning, to be sure, but she had never believed it for a moment. Mice do not make nests in the hair of snakes, nor do rabbits attend them as companions – and the dark boy communicated with her first through his beloved rabbits. He knew they burrowed in her fields and ate her tender greens, and so he sent his favorite companions with little sacks full of gold flakes or small gems tied about their feet, to scatter where she might find them. She had been too young to identify rubies at first and had thought them simply pretty pebbles, but when her mother snatched them away, she knew they had come from the dark boy and resolved to hide away any future gifts accordingly.

Such gifts came to her in abundance. She learned to love pulling up weeds, for the boy knew which plants she would pluck and would now and again tangle their roots – for he dwelt below them – about a great emerald or opal or nugget of silver, to make her cry out with delight as she drew it from the ground with a grunt. On other occasions he simply sent her a playmate: a favorite mousekin or badger cub for her to carry and stroke as she went about her duties, and at day’s end she always sent it back to him with a little present of some sort attached: a bit of honeycomb bound in a leaf at its neck, or a cluster of violets tied to his mousekin’s tail.

The dark boy, she learned quickly, loved when she touched the earth. She knew the earth was his father, but when she trailed her fingers through fresh soil, it was the boy whose sigh she heard, as though she ran her fingers through his black hair. She wondered if she would ever have the courage or the opportunity to attempt such in truth.

The boy was persistent but not bold in his desire for her attention, and when he longed for it most, he would come as near the opening of his hiding place as he dared and sing the stone-song to her. The words fell upon her like fragrant petals, albeit in a strange tongue, and she would press her back to a tree and listen as every bird in the vicinity fell silent to hear him too.

All in all, she liked the dark boy very much. Janek, however, did not.

Janek was her cousin and companion-god; a stocky boy, all sunny curls and ruddy cheeks. From infancy he plucked where she sowed and together they made the harvest. He believed their parents’ tales about the wicked Under-folk and plugged his ears with chubby fingers whenever the dark boy sang the stone-song.

He sang it often when Janek was near, and loudly, and somehow it always made her cry.

 _Don’t listen!_ Janek always shouted to her. _Stop up your ears like me and you won’t hear!_

But she _wanted_ to hear, every last mysterious syllable in the dark boy’s high, clear voice. It was not grief that brought tears to her eyes then but longing; the dark boy’s longing, and the answer it found in her breast.

She knew the dark boy was not for her, neither to be playmate nor companion nor sweetheart. This had been made abundantly plain to her, both by her parents and the boy’s own reluctance to come near. But still she longed, though she did not quite know why, and lingered on her knees in the field, burying her white fingers to the knuckles as she combed them through the soil and pressed kisses among the roots, drinking in the sighs that she felt more than heard.

When she was sixteen, Janek became her lover.

Her chubby, foolish cousin had grown into a strong, handsome youth, full of laughter and smelling of bread and spices, apples and wine. She was meant to love him, and she did. She loved his thick yellow curls and broad hands and warm skin, the powerful contours of his long legs and the dark golden down of his chest that grew slick with sweat when he harvested wheat in naught but a loincloth.

They had kissed a hundred times before and let fingers venture shyly beneath garments, and when he drew her into the woods that night, she had no thought to protest. He propped her back against a silver birch and greedily tugged aside her tunic so he might palm and suckle her breasts, and she tangled her toes in the ferns below and arched against him, aching for more.

He lay her down on a cushion of moss and moved over her, eager but gentle as he spread her legs wide and fitted himself between them. The woods were lit only by stars then but the darkness merely intensified every sensation: the weight of his firm body covering her like a blanket; his soft, desperate grunts against her throat; the thick, smooth root-like thing between his legs that he pushed deep inside her again and again, his hands fisting in the moss on either side of her shoulders as he pumped and panted and moaned.

 _This must be love,_ she thought wildly as she trailed her fingers through the sweat on his back. It had only hurt for a moment and now it was anything but painful: a hot, hungry, breathless thing that grew and grew with Janek’s cries and gasps and the wet, frantic plunging between her legs. White lights danced at the corners of her eyes as the very world seemed to build to an excruciating peak of pleasure, and she did not know whether she wanted it to come and burst upon her or to remain in that fiery escalating place forever, where the pleasure might ever increase and never end.

But cease it did at last and Janek sank over her, all melted muscles and tangy sweat and drowsy, open-mouthed kisses. The thing between his legs had swollen and spilled and gone soft inside her, and he withdrew it with a ragged sigh, making her gasp. She was tender from the breaching of her maidenhead and felt the wetness of his seed and her virgin’s blood seep onto the moss beneath her.

And then came the weeping.

She felt it keenly, pressed to the ground as she was by Janek’s weight. It was as though the earth itself shook with sorrow beneath her, with ragged tremors of sobs that would not abate, and at the center of this grief was the stone-song, sung so beautifully and with such pain that it pierced her heart through.

Perceiving her distress, Janek worried that he had hurt her, but she assured him it was nothing of the kind and pulled on her tunic. She meant to bathe the blood from her thighs, she said, and would return in a few moments.

Hard by their trysting place lay a clear shallow pool, spilling out from the mouth of a cave, but she did not go there to bathe. Standing hip-deep in the pool was the dark boy, his back to her and his shoulders trembling as he sang and skimmed his fingertips over the surface of the water.

He had never before left his place in the shadows, let alone come so close to her, and she waded out to him, trembling in her turn. As she drew near, the moon left its own hiding place and the girl saw that there were flakes of gold in the clear water, swimming to the dark boy’s fingers like little golden fish. “Why did the earth weep at the spilling of my virgin’s blood?” she whispered, and he ceased in his singing and turned to face her.

He was more beautiful than she had ever dreamed, this shadow-boy, sired by the earth itself. His black hair fell about his shoulders, here blanketing the owlet burrowed into the curve of his neck, there accommodating a slumbering mousekin who had made her nest above his left ear. His eyes were silver, bright and pure and full of grief, and the tears on his fine dusky face shimmered like diamonds. As each one slipped from his cheek it struck the water with a mournful ping and cast ripples like a pebble.

“I wished for it, and for you,” he said, and his voice was no less lovely in speech than song. “Though neither could ever be mine.

“I would have brought you to a bed of silver,” he whispered, “curtained with shadow, and there loved you tenderly with my hands and mouth, for as long as you wished it. I would not have _taken_ you like that brawny oaf, only _accepted_ , if you had given yourself to me.”

With these words he brought a hand to her cheek, a fleeting, tender brush of wet fingers and trailing flakes of gold. He smelled of loam and the musk of soft burrowing creatures, of coal-fires and damp stone, and she ached to kiss him and hold him close, to stroke his hair and his smooth dusky skin and breathe the scent of his body till her lungs brimmed with it, but he turned from her with a cry and strode through the pool into the depths of the cave.

When he had gone, she crouched to sweep the bottom of the pool with her fingers, and where his tears had fallen, she drew out twelve perfect diamonds, each no larger than a droplet of water and seemingly cut and polished by a master’s hand.

She returned to the woods where Janek waited; her good-natured boy, bright-eyed and eager for more, and she lay in his arms with a laugh and gave herself over to his love-making again. It was vigorous this time, emboldened by their first glorious round, and Janek laughed with delight as he moved atop her, panting and sweating and drawing kisses from her mouth like a hearty, honeyed draught. She caught at his strong, slick back with one slender hand as she echoed his moans and her body arched hungrily to meet his, but her other hand lay among moss and ferns and clutched a handful of diamond tears.


End file.
